


In the Cold, Cold Night

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Canonical Character Death, D/s, F/M, Incest, Pegging, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 08:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2341694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're lost," Derek says for the fifth time that hour. </p>
<p>"We're <i>werewolves</i> Derek! How the fuck can we be lost?" Cora growls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eeyore9990](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/gifts).



> I mashed a few different prompts/kinks together to get here. And then pegging didn't want to fit in, so the second chapter's just smut. I hope you like your gift!
> 
> Prompts: Vacation gone wrong ends up in a pairing no one saw coming. & Lovely ladies love pegging their partners. Strap one on your favorite and let her go wild!
> 
> Title from The White Stripes' song of the same name.
> 
> And so many thanks to [badwolfbadwolff](http://badwolfbadwolff.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing super quickly <3

"We're lost," Derek says for the fifth time that hour. 

"We're _werewolves_ Derek! How the fuck can we be lost?" Cora growls, a grim satisfaction creeping in as she hears the brittle leaves crumble beneath her boots. The ugly tan boots weren't necessary, but Dad was always paranoid about their secret getting out- at least the dead leaves crunch a little louder with them on. 

"C'mon," Derek says softly. It's the voice he uses for their baby cousins- Peter's kids- and it irks her that he's trying to use it on her. She's not a damn child. 

"It's already half past two, and there's no moon out. Let's just sleep for the rest of the night. In the morning we'll find them."

"Fine," Cora mutters. It's cold enough not to be buggy out, but it's also cold enough that she wishes they were back at the tent with sleeping bags. 

Derek is already on the ground, and Cora feels a tinge of guilt at how tired he obviously is. When he pats the ground next to him though, it goes away easily enough, awkwardness taking its place. 

" _C'mon_ ," Derek whines, "I'm too sleepy for this crap and you'll be cold. Just come here." 

Muttering a few choice words in Portuguese, Cora lies down next to him. He spoons her right away, gigantic arms keeping her from moving even an inch away. His breathing is easy against the back of her neck, and he falls asleep quick enough. Protection. That's all it is, and she needs to remember that. Derek _loves_ protecting her, his baby sister. He would never admit it, but he wants to protect Laura too. He can't obviously, as if any werewolf would stand for a beta overprotecting the next alpha in line.

Protective. The word rang incessantly through her mind, but she still wants to turn around and nestle into him. God, she's so messed up. _Normal_ people don't think like this, don't feel like this. Even werewolves looked down upon it. Even the monstrous ones. God, she couldn't-

Derek twitches in his sleep, his heartbeat quickening for a moment, and Cora forces herself calm- the last thing she needs is an awake and grumpy Derek telling her to sleep. She knows he would back off instantly if she asked him to- that's the worst part. She could ask him to do _anything_. Absolute power corrupts, she knows that- and she's already far too corrupted. 

She doesn't sleep that night. In the morning she claims the ground was too cold, and hearing the lie Derek assumes it was a nightmare. She doesn't correct him.

They find everyone an hour after they rise, and Laura makes fun of their noses for a good hour after checking they're not hurt. 

September comes quick, and Cora goes off to college in Brazil. If she were a more prideful person, she'd care about running away from her problems. Luckily, she isn't. 

A year turns into three easily, an internship, a girlfriend, and a job offer, keep her from heading back to Beacon Hills. She hears family news on a grand scale: Laura dating Lydia, Derek helping various omegas, Peter and his wife having yet another kid, Talia playing court with the surrounding packs and hunters, and their Dad dealing with a houseful of supernatural creatures. It makes it feel like she hasn't really missed that much. 

And then Laura calls her, telling her to get her butt back to California to help plan the summer wedding. 

Cora isn't surprised. Laura always loved moving fast. She had skipped a few grades in school, learned to control her shift years earlier than usual, and most of her relationships lasted three days at most. She'd been courting Lydia for two years, waiting for the banshee to get her first degree. Lydia had already been accepted to MIT's doctoral program, and the two had an apartment set out and everything.

They were the perfect couple, and Cora fought to be happy rather than envious. She knew her life would never be like that- she'd known for some time now. But still, having it thrown in her face with an expensive phone call didn't help. 

That summer, Cora turns down the job offer late and goes back to Beacon Hills. 

She was on the plane when the fire happened. Later she found out Derek was with an omega, Boyd, sleeping over with another pack to see if he might like it in Yellowstone. No one else survives.

Cora forgets to ask if Boyd liked it or not, but Derek meets her soon enough and they're both standing in the ashes, shaking. Derek has new red eyes that he hasn't learned to control and every time she sees them, tears leak past her lids. It was supposed to be Laura. 

They sleep in Peter's apartment, cuddled together tight in a giant bed. Neither mentions the guest room, and Cora tries not to think about her baby cousins' deaths. She sleeps in his arms easily, far too distracted to compare it to the time in the woods. Neither realizes it, but they've swapped places. 

Derek is still protective of course, his arms caging in his baby sister. But now, whenever his eyelids droop, all he can see are flames. 

So he tosses his mind about, fighting to stay awake and away from the hellfire. His mind ventures too far, recalling the scent he's supposed to forget. Recalling the feelings he thought he buried long ago. It's almost worse than the flames, and he tries to surrender to sleep- but it won't take him. 

He watches the sun rise through Peter's ridiculous full wall window, watches the light slowly encapsulate Cora. She's a woman now, a full wolf. He feels dirty for noticing, for the way he wants to brush her hair back and kiss the edge of her neck. By the time Derek closes his eyes, the sun is turning his lids red. He focuses on her breathing, the familiar pattern drawing him to sleep. 

.

Cora doesn't really wake until noon. The hours before she passes in and out of sleep thoroughly convinced she's dreaming. It's an old dream of hers, though it usually captures the chilly ground and damp leaves better. At noon she realizes it isn't a dream, and she couldn't fall back asleep if she wanted to. She soaks in their mixed scent and the pure warmth for a few perfect moments. 

And then she remembers the fire. 

She keeps herself from crying out, but she can't stop the flow of tears. She can't believe she forgot for even a moment- oh god what they would think of her if they knew. They'd wish she came back sooner, they'd wish-

Derek's arms tighten around her, and Cora's breath hitches.

"Don't feel guilty," he says in a low voice. It's too low and growly and early morning feeling, and another wave of guilt washes through her. 

"Hey, you couldn't have- there's nothing- they wouldn't want you to feel bad Cora." 

A bitter laugh tumbles past her lips, and she turns around to face him, "You wanna bet on that?" 

They're close, too close- thank god Derek's eyes aren't crimson right now. She tries to pull back, there needs to be _some_ space, _some_ normalcy. But Derek just holds her tighter, and she thinks her senses are deceiving her when he comes even nearer. 

His lips taste like nothing. They don't taste like skinned knees getting bandaged up after her first midnight runs. They don't taste like his favorite ice cream (mint chocolate) or his favorite meal (lasagna). They don't taste like a promise or a beginning or an end. They don't taste like the home they once shared, nor the ashes that remain. 

Cora doesn't know if she should cry or be grateful. 

She kisses him back instead. She brings in aggression, she shifts up for leverage, and his hands fall on her ass. 

He doesn't move them. And when Cora only arches her back, pressing further into his hands, any remaining inhibitions are destroyed. Clothes are torn off like tissue paper, claws extending and retracting rapidly- burning scratches turning to a soothing touch and repeating the cycle. Derek heals too quickly to retain even the lightest scratch line, and he tries to keep from marking up Cora. It doesn't take her long to notice, and with a grin she pushes into his claws whenever, wherever she feels them. She's enjoyed pushing him for years, and she quickly pushes that thought far away. 

Her lips pull off of his, and she noses down his neck. She even nips it, sharply enough to briefly show blood, but Derek only chuckles, his hands moving in circles all over her bare back. It's an old gesture, only barely sexual from his cock beginning to thicken against her. His hands slip down to grab the backs of her thighs- that's new she thinks- and he rubs them, tantalizingly close, until her wetness drips down to his fingers. 

The smirk he wears is a little too self-congratulatory, and Cora's teeth work at a dark nipple. He lets out a hiss, and she licks the tip victoriously. There's a whine growing in the back of his throat. Next time, she thinks, next time she'll draw it out until he's begging. 

(She doesn't. Next time is in the shower, slippery and soapy, and on the manic side of happy. It takes three months until she makes him beg, until they're both ready for it.)

For now, she allows him to fuck her, to distract her- to keep her from thinking of those new eyes.


	2. Three Months Later

Derek is waiting for her on their bed, naked on his back and holding his knees up. He's slightly flushed from the exposure, but his legs don't move. He's never looked so inviting and she joins him with a bottle of water-based lube.

Cora thought it would take longer to get to this. This place where everything might not be okay, but it's still working for them. (Longer still if she includes the harness and dildo she wears.) She supposes the incest factor is harder to care about when your remaining family is dead. She stops that line of thought, focusing instead on her thumb circling lube around his rim. The wrinkles are soft and give way easily, sucking in Cora's thumb up to the first knuckle. Repeating the action a few times- lube, rub, dip- Derek's hole is _dripping_.

"Please." 

Cora looks up at the word. He's far more flushed now, and his knuckles have gone white from holding his knees back. 

Her left hand strokes along his cock, pressing it against his stomach. "Like this?" 

His hips tremble in her hands. "No." 

Her grin widens and her hand dips lower, drawing a figure eight around his balls. "This?" 

"Co-ra," he whines prettily, and she decides to indulge him for that, swapping out her thumb for two fingers. They delve into him easily, coaxing out moans with every upward stroke and press. 

His cock is soft from the deeper penetration, but it doesn't take much to harden it again- a few squeezes and it's practically bouncing off his abs. Her brother looks like a porn star like this, fingers up his ass, cock dripping, and moaning for more. She's sure he senses her amusement, but he's too far gone to care. 

" _Please_." 

Cora smirks, her fingers doing little windshield wiper motions against his prostate. "Try again." 

"Please fuck me." His hips are trembling again, and she's sure she could milk his prostate and leave him empty and aching for the night. It's a tempting idea, but one they haven't discussed. She files it away for later, pulling down on his balls gently. 

"You can do better than that, brother." 

He groans at her words, and begs shamelessly, "Please Cora, I need you in me. Please, _please_ fuck me." 

She almost wants to twist her fingers, remind him that she's already fucking him, to demand a better answer. But there's more than a hint of desperation on his face, and her wrist will probably cramp soon from the angle. So her fingers slip out smoothly, and she wipes the leftover lube on his leg. He doesn't even complain, and she smells his excitement and anticipation heightening. 

Cora gets up on her knees, holding the rounded silicone tip to his hole for one last tease. 

"Yeah?" 

Derek's eyes flash red at her, and she only feels his frustration and desire. 

" _Yes_." 

Once the head pops in, the rest of the dildo sinks in, and Derek's groan is half growl. Cora's hips flex, and the dildo's base is pressing through the harness's thin cotton onto her clit, and she slams back into him harder than she intends to. He cries out, and rocks his body back and forth with her thrusts. 

She's getting caught up in watching Derek- the way his muscles move, how he gnaws his lower lip, watching the silicone cock disappear inside him- and she's feeling lazy too. 

"Flip," she says, and they do, disconnecting in the turn about. Derek's straddling her now, she can feel his curiosity. 

"Ride me... and no hands." 

It takes a few tries before Derek seats himself on the dildo, and his hands get smacked away a few times before he holds his forearms behind his back. He starts carefully, only working up and down an inch. Cora doesn't bother helping, enjoying the view and pressure on her clit instead. 

Only once he's settled into a rhythm, eyes closed and lightly panting, does she buck her hips up. His breath catches, and the next time he's ready and slams down. 

"F-fuck, close," he moans, his rhythm hopelessly lost. 

"Come for me," she orders, and he does, shooting all over their stomachs. 

"Good boy."

He flops forward, his weight heavy and comforting. Cora's hands settle on his back, and he buries his face in her neck. She smiles at the gesture, and notices him reach a hand back. 

"Don't. Keep it in you. I know you'll be good to go in another hour." 

Derek nips her neck, but drops his hand all the same, contentedness washing over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the curious, the toys I was imagining are rodeoh's brief and vixen's leo.


End file.
